


No Place in My Heart

by TheButterflySings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Sub Clint Barton, Sub Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheButterflySings/pseuds/TheButterflySings
Summary: Not every sub gets claimed. Not every Dom claims a sub. It's well-known and just a generally accepted fact. Being the only unclaimed sub on the team hasn't been an issue to Clint. It's everyone else that thinks Clint really should have been claimed by now.





	1. Chapter 1

Clint started to show as a submissive when he was fourteen, and it didn't bother him. Bothered the circus, he gathered, from the way people looked at him. Maybe bothered wasn't the word, maybe it was more that-- well, he was a sub. He was a young sub. There were a lot of Doms in the circus who were much older and much more experienced and didn't hide that they would have loved a chance with Clint. It was about the only good thing that Barney had done for Clint in the circus, keeping them away from him. 

He hadn't been able to save Clint from everyone, especially when they stopped speaking, especially when things got bad, and there were parts of his past that he didn't talk about, for that very purpose. Because there was very rarely someone to save Clint from the people in the world who would take advantage of him. Not in the time when he was between the circus and SHIELD. 

Being a sub got easier again when he joined SHIELD. Sure, the fair share of Doms tried to claim him, or force him, but he had Phil. And Phil didn't claim him, wouldn't, even if Clint had maybe wanted it for a while, but Phil always kept him safe. Always. Until the day he died. And by the time he died, Clint had the rest of the Avengers, who respected that Clint was a submissive who just didn't want to be claimed. 

The Doms in the Avengers were always curious, though. Clint was, in many ways, a perfect sub. He was smart, clever, and very good at taking orders, not to mention good-looking and a lot of fun to be around. He was always eager to please, always looking for reassurance, always trying to make people happier, to help. And that was what a lot of people wanted in a sub. They were surprised he hadn't been claimed. And sometimes, Clint did notice, they looked a little too long. It wasn't uncommon for a Dom to claim more than one sub, so he wouldn't be surprised if Tony ever asked, except that he wouldn't want to upset Steve. And he knew that Thor would never ask because Thor was the straightest person he'd ever met in his entire life. Natasha and Sam, he could maybe see asking at some point, they were both switch, and they both liked Clint well enough, but Clint would refuse. He didn't want any part of that.

And he was okay being unclaimed, really. It hadn't been an issue. He had never met a Dominant he trusted enough to kneel to, not since Phil. He never met someone he thought he'd be able to actually give himself over to. A lot of people didn't. Some subs were never claimed, some Doms never claimed anyone. It was the way the world worked. 

And then Bucky Barnes joined the team.

\---

Bucky was very clearly a Dom. 

Not in the way that Tony was very clearly a Dom. Because Tony was loud, obvious. He portrayed his dominance clearly, made sure everyone knew. Bucky was nearly silent, didn't say much, didn't display who he was obviously. But it was clear, it radiated off of him. He was a presence in any room, that every submissive was just distinctly aware of. Clint was no exception to that. He was aware of Bucky's presence, he was aware of everything about Bucky, acutely aware, but he didn't let himself think about it. For the same reason no sub thought about it. 

Because when Bucky came into the team, the first issue was Steve. Steve was claimed, and happily, but it was clear he had had something with Bucky in the past. It was also crystal clear Tony wasn't going to let that something come back easily. But it didn't escalate, even when everyone had thought it would. Bucky had looked them over, given a small, very faint smile, and told Tony to take care of Steve. And that had been that. 

Once it was clear Bucky didn't have any real attachment, everyone in the Avengers started to think the same thing, that maybe this would be the person for Clint (because really, for him to go so long without even playing with a Dom wasn't healthy). Clint saw it all in their eyes and shut them down before they could voice it.

It wasn't going to happen.

\---

Clint and Bucky only ever talked in the field. Both snipers, both extremely perceptive, they would take up posts where, between the two of them, they could see everyone on the team. And it worked. Well. Bucky very clearly avoided giving Clint orders-- as a Dom, his orders would have a much different effect on Clint than they would on, say Tony, and as an unclaimed sub, those orders would probably affect Clint in a very negative way if Bucky wasn't willing to follow through on what it meant. 

But it still worked. 

And they still didn't really talk outside the field. 

Until it happened.

There were no shortage of SHIELD agents who wanted to claim Clint, and some that weren't quite so kind about the ways they went about it. And when one, Agent Jared Bullock, showed up at the Avengers tower, it became very, very clear that things were going to go south. The second he was inside, his eyes were trained on Clint, watching TV, and still very much uncollared. He didn't even bother to look up at Bullock, something that the latter apparently wasn't going to have.

"Haven't you been taught to respect your superiors, brat?" Bullock demanded, his voice harsh. 

Etiquette dictated that a sub was to stand when a Dom entered the room, but it wasn't followed in Avengers tower, with how often Tony, Bucky, and Sam (who was the Dom in his relationship with Natasha), came and went. They had dismissed this etiquette from the subs, unless they were in private and the order was strictly given. Clint hadn't had to follow that rule in so long, since before that, Phil also hadn't made him follow it, that he'd sort of forgotten it existed. 

It was clear that he knew he'd messed up, however, when he jumped to his feet almost instantly. "Sorry," he mumbled, his eyes focused on his feet, head bowed.

He missed the look in Bucky's eyes. 

Bucky hated Doms like this, who looked down on subs as if they were inferior people. Especially with someone like Clint. He was watching Bullock with ice cold eyes, hands curled into fists. But he didn't move from the wall he was leaning against. It wasn't his place to interfere. 

"'Sorry', what?" Bullock snapped, the tone in his voice laced with dominance and superiority. Bucky bristled, and, on the other side of the room, so did Tony, Sam, and Bruce.

"He doesn't have to call you sir," Tony cut in. "You don't own him."

"An unclaimed submissive is to address any Dom who speaks to him with respect," Bullock shot back. "Unless someone here has claimed him, it's not any of your business." He turned his attention back to Clint, who was tense, shoulders drawn back and fingers curled into tight fists at his side.

"Sorry, sir," he corrected himself through gritted teeth.

"Was that so hard?" Bullock practically purred, and then he reached out to card his fingers through Clint's hair, and that was the moment when Bucky snapped. 

"I'd suggest you stop," he said in deathly cool voice, and suddenly every eye in the room was on him.

Bucky hadn't spoken thus far, very rarely spoke up about situations like this. Sure, he was more talkative than he'd been when he first joined up, but everyone had come to the conclusion that, even if they wanted it to happen, Bucky was never going to claim Clint, and Clint was never going to let him. They weren't even remotely close, and they were the kind of people who needed to know and trust someone before a collar was even suggested. 

"And why should I?" 

"He's not yours," Bucky replied coldly, and he was aware of Clint's eyes on him. Not angry. Just confused.

"He could be," Bullock suggested, and Clint took an automatic step back.

"No. I don't want to be," the archer said firmly. "I've told you that before-- I know I have."

The anger that overcame Bullock's face was very clear, and he drew himself up to his full height-- which wasn't that intimidating, considering his head came up to Clint's neck, but Clint flinched back anyway. Bullock's voice was like acid as he hissed, "And who are you to talk to me like that, you worthless, pathetic--"

"Clint," Bucky interrupted very quietly, stepping away from the wall. "Come here."

It was the one thing he had avoided doing for as long as he knew Clint. It wasn't that Bucky didn't... want Clint. Because he couldn't imagine a gay Dom who didn't. He was as aware as everyone else of how good Clint would be, not just as a submissive, but as a person in general. He was not unaware of how smart, attractive, and genuine Clint was. Bucky just knew Clint deserved better than what Bucky was-- because really, who would want the Winter Soldier as their dominant? Surely not someone as kind-hearted as Clint. So he'd avoided it.

But this was an order, and that was clear in Bucky's voice.

Following a sharp intake of breath from the agent, Clint slowly moved to where Bucky was standing, and, though the words were never spoken, sank to his knees by Bucky's side. Bucky's breath caught for just a moment, because that, that was a thing he hadn't expected. He could /feel/ the eyes on him, Tony's, Steve's, Bruce's, Natasha's. He thought Natasha was actually smirking, but he didn't look away from Bullock long enough to find out. 

"You should leave," Bucky suggested softly. "Before this gets any uglier than it already has. He doesn't want you. Try to force him again, say anything to him like those words that just came out of your mouth, and you will join a very long list of people who found out it was probably not a great idea to piss me off."

It wasn't exactly a graceful exit. There was a lot of swearing. Some kicking of chairs. But Bullock did leave, and tense silence fell in the room as everyone's eyes found Clint and Bucky again.

"Buck," Steve began cautiously, his eyes flicking to where Clint was still kneeling by his side. 

The full weight of what Bucky had just done crashed down on him. 

With how long it had been since either of them had actually done anything with anyone else, this was going to turn into a messy situation. One that could cause sub-drop in Clint, and top drop in Bucky. Because the order was given, and obeyed, and now it was there, in both of them, the need to actually act upon that. And if they didn't-- and they couldn't, Bucky couldn't do that-- Bucky didn't want to think about what would happen. And by giving that order, showing any sort of ownership over Clint, he had taken away Clint's option to choose. Clint had obeyed, but it was likely he'd felt as though he hadn't had a choice, and did that make Bucky any better than the others who'd tried to force Clint into obedience? 

His throat was tight as he took a couple steps away from Clint, unable to even look at the archer. 

"I-- I'm sorry, Clint," he managed, before he did what he did best, and fled from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

They didn't talk about it, because they couldn't talk about it, because neither of them knew what they were supposed to do. In any other circumstance, Clint would go to Bucky and they'd handle the very obvious sub drop and top drop that were happening to them both. Bucky wasn't as aware of the negative effect it was having on him. Through years and years of the war and HYDRA, he'd learned how not to react to top drop. It made him nervous, yes, made it harder to focus, but he battled through it. He always had. 

He was much more aware of the effect it had on Clint. Clint had always been a bit of a risk-taker, but now he was bordering on reckless, and it was getting him into trouble. It was getting other people hurt. Natasha had taken a bullet for Clint, which had lead to Sam getting extremely pissed off and snapping at Clint. Clint had retreated further into sub drop before Tony and Steve could do damage control. Because the worst part was, Clint knew how badly he was messing up. And, even without Sam and Tony pointing it out to him, he was already punishing himself for it. He had denied himself coffee, cut back his food intake, and was isolating himself from everyone. 

And it was Bucky's fault. 

But Bucky still couldn't do anything about it. Until something happened that made it impossible for him to avoid the situation any longer than he already had. 

They were in the field, fighting a rather large army of what looked like genetic experiments. Only, these experiments were pigs who were four times the normal size of a pig and at least ten times stronger and faster. The Avengers had their work cut out for them. Usually, it probably wouldn't have been such an issue, if Bucky and Clint were both at their best, but neither was and they weren't communicating, leaving the team without the use of either of their sharpshooters.

And maybe Bucky lost his cool a little bit. 

He was watching Clint, because he was keenly aware of Clint, even if Clint was six buildings away, on the other side of the fight. He was watching Clint missing obvious marks, taking out every enemy he shot, but not shooting the ones that needed to be shot first. He was watching Clint's missteps, watching Clint jump from rooftop to rooftop with reckless abandon. And he watched as Clint missed the landing of a jump that he hadn't timed quite right, because he wasn't thinking. One foot slid from the edge of the roof, and it was only by luck that Clint was able to catch himself and pull himself back up. Bucky wanted to yell, but he didn't seem to have to. Clint was already punishing himself for it, snapping the rubberband that was on his wrist repeatedly.

It was a sorry sight, but it was what Bucky should have seen coming. The very clear sub drop, the spiral that came with it. So he was going to do something about it.

"Clint," he stated very clearly, very smoothly through the comm pieces, and though he had turned his attention back to the fight, he knew Clint had tensed. "Stay where you are. Don't move again, or I'll shoot you off the roof myself. You're going to get yourself hurt. Call out patterns, like Steve told you, find the weaknesses, but do it from where you are."

There was silence on the other end of the comm system, and he thought for a long minute that Clint was going to disobey. The Avengers seemed to be waiting for Clint to respond, too, tense despite the fighting. The air was thick, heavy with tension that Bucky could have cut with a knife. But he didn't say anything. He shot one of the genetically altered pigs between the eyes, sighing in relief when his shot didn't stray. And he waited for Clint to say something.

"Is that an order?" finally came through the earpiece. It was so sarcastic, intent on pushing buttons, that Bucky almost smiled. He sounded more like Clint, anyway. But that didn't mean much.

Because the question was there, and it was meant to be answered. Clint was giving Bucky a choice, the choice that Bucky hadn't given Clint, and it almost halted Bucky in his tracks. On autopilot, he kept shooting, and it was lucky he did, or Stark would have been run over and trampled. He could turn the question back on Clint, sure, give Clint that choice back, but he knew that he had to make this decision. If he turned it back on Clint, whatever happened in the end wouldn't really help either of them, because Bucky hadn't made the choice as a dominant. If he said no, they'd go back to how they were, a blatant refusal to act on what was obviously happening.

If he said yes, he asserted his place as Clint Barton's dominant. Which... He wasn't. Except that he had triggered this in Clint, which meant that, whether he claimed Clint or not, he was responsible for what happened to him.

"Yes."

"Bucky--" Steve began hesitantly, but he didn't get a chance to say much before his attention was again diverted to the fight.

"Think about what you're doing, Robocop," Tony finished for him. 

"I am thinking about it," Bucky snapped back. "Clint, you have your orders. Follow them."

The orders alone wouldn't pull either of them out of what they were in. It would take more than that. But it was a clear start that had given something to hold on to, some kind of hope that they'd do something. Because they'd both gone so long without anything that they needed it. And even if it didn't start a relationship, they needed what came with the relationship. Even if that was only a night. A Dom could only go so long without dominating and a sub could only go so long without submitting, and as long as they'd waited to do something, it didn't matter to who anymore.

It was a start.

\---

It took Clint a long time after the battle to come to Bucky, who was alone, in his room, like he often was. There was a timid knock and then Bucky telling him to come in, and suddenly Clint was standing in his doorway, and it was time to have a conversation that he didn't think he was ready to have.

"You don't want to claim me," Clint stated bluntly upon entering, and Bucky looked up, clearly stunned. Clint continued, his voice detached and emotionless despite the obvious pain in his eyes. "You're not doing this because you have any desire to claim me. You kept me safe from Bullock, and I appreciate that, I should have thanked you when it happened, but you're only doing this because you're thinking you're responsible for me. You don't want me. Like Phil."

Bucky sat up slowly, running the fingers of his right hand, the hand that was still flesh and bone, through his hair slowly. 

"Sit down, Clint," he stated carefully. After a moment of hesitation, Clint sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a fair amount of distance between Bucky and himself. "Why are you saying that?"

"Because it's true. It's always true. No one wants to claim me except people who just want to abuse me and treat me like I'm inferior to them. No one ever has. The good dominants-- they want something else, something I'm not. Clearly. Because none of them ever even try with me. Phil-- Phil always refused to do anything with me unless it was clear that I needed it, but he wouldn't collar me, he wouldn't-- I wasn't enough, or something, I don't know, I'm not good enough, and it's going to be like that with you, too. I'm going to-- You're going to do this, because I need it, and you probably need it, too, but then it won't-- I'll get attached to you, I'll want it to be something it's not, and you won't claim me, and it'll be what it always is."

Bucky sat in stunned silence at the revelation. He had clearly underestimated how broken Clint Barton was. Clint Barton, the most highly acclaimed SHIELD agent he'd ever met, the one most quick to put himself in danger if it meant keeping someone else safe. Clint Barton, smart and strong and self-assured... And he was sitting there, admitting these things, and apparently he wasn't self-assured at all. 

"You want me to claim you?"

"I want /something/. With someone. That's going to lead to something more than one night to focus me, and then never again. And I-- it probably won't be you, will it? Because the last person you had was Steve, and I'm nothing like him, so I guess--"

"Clint, if I wanted to be with Steve, I could have been when I came back," Bucky interrupted. "I thought... honestly, that you wouldn't want someone like me to claim you."

It was Clint's turn to be stunned, Bucky could see it in his eyes, in the furrow of his brow. "Why?"

Bucky sighed softly, making a vague hand motion with his metal arm. Because really, that metal arm should have been all the explanation he needed. But he explained anyway, "I'm the Winter Soldier. I know Phil Coulson, Clint. Or, at least, of him. And I know the guy he was, and that's not me. I'm dangerous. And not really a good person. I thought, and I think everyone else would agree, that you deserved better. It's why I never tried. Otherwise... If things were different, if I were different, I would have tried a long time ago."

"You wanted to claim me?"

"Since I met you," Bucky replied honestly.

The silence between them was tense. Two men who were very clearly unsure of themselves. Clint unsure about whether or not he could ever be a good submissive, as no one had ever given him a chance, and it had left him broken. Bucky, on the other hand, knew that Clint could be a good submissive, likely the perfect one, but he had his own doubts, too. He doubted whether or not he'd be able to heal the brokenness inside the archer, he doubted he'd ever be good enough for someone like Clint. It was weighing on him heavily.

"One night," Clint finally pleaded. "Just one. We both-- we need it, anyway, and I don't want to-- I mean, if, afterwards... We can figure it out then, but... One night. Please."

Bucky inhaled sharply, steadying himself as he reminded himself all the reasons why this was a bad idea. It didn't seem to matter, he'd made up his mind two weeks before when he'd given Clint an order that it wasn't his place to give. 

"Okay. One night."


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Bucky had promised Clint the one night that he so desperately seemed to want, the archer was sinking to his knees in front of Bucky. And that-- yes, that was something Bucky would want. Later. But it wasn't his primary concern. Because this, this was likely to be too much for the body Clint had been so terribly neglecting over the past few weeks, and Bucky wasn't taking a chance with it. So that would come, and later. Bucky had primary concerns first.

"Off your knees," he said offhandedly, getting to his own feet, and Clint stared up at him, appearing confused by the order.

"But you said--"

"I did. And I meant it. But we have all night to get to that, and there's something you need to do first. So off your knees, and don't make me tell you again."

Experimentally, Bucky made the words strict. He wanted to see how Clint would react, and he wasn't disappointed by it. Clint was on his feet instantly, head bowed, and a flush on his cheeks. It wasn't something Bucky planned to do often-- it reminded him too much of Doms who were nothing but cruel to their subs, but he realized it would probably be something that would break Clint out of his own head and insecurities, reestablish dominance if he ever needed to. He filed the information away for a later purpose.

Wordlessly, Bucky walked to the kitchen, with Clint trailing behind him just as quietly. Bucky wasn't much of a cook, but anything would be better than what Clint had been eating, which was very close to nothing. So he got Clint a bowl of cereal and made a cup of coffee, primarily because he knew Clint had been denying himself coffee, and he wanted to make the sub see that this wasn't a punishment. Clint had certainly punished himself enough. 

Setting the bowl and cup down on the table, Bucky met Clint's eyes. "Eat."

"I'm not--" Clint began, but was betrayed by the rumble his stomach gave off in response to the food in front of him. 

"You are," Bucky argued. "And I don't particularly like that you're trying to lie to me about it. You haven't eaten more than half a meal in the past week, probably longer, and I've noticed, but no one could make you do anything about it. So you're going to eat, and you're going to drink that coffee, and we're going to talk."

Hesitantly, Clint sat down at the table, taking a timid bite of the cereal, like he wasn't sure if he was actually allowed to eat it, like it might be taken away at any moment. Once it was clear that Bucky wasn't going to do anything like that-- and if someone actually had done that to Clint in the past, Bucky was going to kill them-- Clint started to eat, really eat, earning an appreciative sound from his stomach. 

Bucky sat at the table across from him, watching him in silence for a moment. They needed to talk about this before they did anything, but he didn't want to interrupt the near peace they were sitting in. They were alone in the kitchen; Bucky figured the others were probably in their own rooms, Steve and Tony maybe in Tony's lab, and that was probably better. Clint would be a lot less likely to talk if someone walked in while Bucky was asking him questions. Bucky was a lot less likely to talk, too. 

"Clint, you know we have some things to cover before we try to do anything," Bucky began, and Clint paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. 

"Yeah, I know we do," Clint sighed softly before finishing what was on the spoon and cautiously taking a sip of the coffee. Bucky hadn't added anything to it, figuring that Clint liked his coffee back. Suddenly, he was a little unsure, hoping that actually was how Clint liked his coffee, or this would be a wasted effort. But Clint hummed quietly, setting his cup back down on the table. "I haven't had coffee in too long. I... thanks."

Bucky blinked a couple times, frowning. "Don't thank me. Just... don't want you punishing yourself anymore."

"That's not--" Clint began, but stopped when he saw the hard look on Bucky's face. Sighing, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Okay, yeah, I was, but no one else was going to do it."

"Maybe because you didn't deserve to be punished," Bucky offered in a soft tone.

"Sam seemed to think I did."

Bucky bristled. He didn't mind Sam nearly as much as he had in the past, and he knew that Sam had only been trying to protect Natasha, but he'd overstepped a boundary when he'd started yelling at a sub who was already in sub space and wasn't his to punish. "Sam is not your Dom, therefore nothing he said should hold any weight. It didn't when it was Bullock. Why should it now?"

"Because I actually like Sam," Clint replied quietly. 

Bucky didn't reply, but he was going to have to talk to Sam about that. He knew that Sam hadn't apologized. Tapping the fingers of his right hand on the table, Bucky changed the subject a little bit, getting them back onto the path that they needed to be taking. "Well, I'm not punishing you tonight. And it's not your place to decide if you need to be. You've messed up, yes, but you've punished yourself for it plenty. Tonight is more about... making sure you know that you're not inferior. Making sure you're taken care of. And for me to do that, you need to be honest."

Clint was frowning. Bucky was sure it was because the agent believed he needed to be punished, but as Bucky had said, it wasn't his place to decide. Bucky met his eyes, unwavering and silent until he got some sort of response from the other man. Finally, Clint nodded. "I can be honest. It's not impossible. Just... you know, difficult." He cracked a smile, the first Bucky had seen out of him in days, and Bucky smiled back, satisfied when he saw Clint take another sip of the coffee.

"We'll start with a safeword," Bucky began, and this was the talk they needed to have. Safeword, soft limits, hard limits, triggers. Bucky knew he had plenty of them himself, knew that Clint probably had at least as many, and overstepping either of their boundaries tonight would be the opposite of progress.

"HYDRA," Clint responded instantaneously, and okay. Bucky was never going to forget that one. That would be what he had chosen as his own, were it up to him. "They've done their fair share of bad to me, too, and I figure... Well, I figure it'll get everything to stop pretty quickly if it needs to."

"You don't need to explain that to me. I understand," Bucky replied dryly. "Are you still hungry?"

Clint looked down at his empty cereal bowl, brow furrowed. For a moment, Bucky thought he was going to lie, and he was going to be upset. Because this needed honesty, or they were never going to get anywhere. "Yeah," Clint answered softly. "I am, kinda."

Bucky took the bowl and pulled the cereal box from the cabinet, refilling the bowl quickly and quietly. As he was getting the milk from the fridge, he said as casually as he could, "How do you feel about discussing your limits?"

Clint actually snorted out a laugh, which surprised Bucky, but also made him smile, because that was a sound he hadn't heard in a while. "I don't want to," the archer admitted honestly, "because once I do, you're going to have your work cut out for you. But I know I have to."

"My work cut out for me," Bucky repeated, setting the bowl down in front of Clint again. "Well, if that's how you feel, maybe I should start. Eat, and I'll tell you." 

Obediently, Clint started to eat again as Bucky started to think. HYDRA had really changed his perspective on some things. He could inflict pain with the best of them. Torture was in his nature now. And it was something he would never feel comfortable doing with his sub. Pain was a general part of a Dom/sub relationship, but Bucky knew, without knowing how he knew, that if he even tried to take a whip to a submissive, it would trigger a lot of old memories that would be better left alone.

"Pain is a limit for me," Bucky finally sighed quietly. "I can do a lot of things. I can inflict pain, it was part of my coding when HYDRA brainwashed me. But I won't take a whip to my sub for that very reason. It was part of the torture HYDRA made me inflict on other people, and I can't do that anymore. I can tie you down, I can tease and make you beg, I can do orgasm denial, but pain is one thing that I won't waver on."

"Okay," Clint agreed easily. "Pain isn't really a thing for me. Kink or limit. It's just kind of a thing that is. I mean, all my training has prepared me for pain, so it has no effect on me anymore, not really. My hardest limit is blindfolding. I won't do it."

Bucky thought about that. Really, it didn't need an explanation. Clint Barton, Hawkeye, was the greatest marksman in the world. He relied on his eyesight. Take that away, and what was he? And Bucky understood that. 

"No blindfolding."

"Yeah, I'm already deaf. I'd rather the rest of my senses be available to me."

Bucky was pretty sure he knew that. At least, it didn't come as a shock to him. He nodded once. "Okay. I'd rather you see what I'm doing anyway. If that's what makes you comfortable. Anything else?"

"I mean.. The slurs. Being called worthless, things like that. I heard it enough from my dad when I was young, and then again in the circus. And I'm already not... Too fond of who I am. The slurs trigger something bad."

Bucky understood that one, too. He could never picture any of those words coming out of his mouth, and maybe part of that was his past with Steve. He had known, when he'd claimed Steve, that things like that would make Steve incredibly uncomfortable, so doing it was something he knew he'd never do. Any desire for it was out of his brain for good. 

"Okay," Bucky agreed easily.

"What about you? Anything else for you?"

"No, pain is the biggest thing for me. There are others that we'll probably have to play around with to see, but I think that covers it. Clint. I need you to answer something honestly for me. "

Clint raised one eyebrow, but his gaze didn't waver from Bucky's for even a second. And that was a boost of confidence that Bucky hadn't even known he needed until that very second. "Ask away. I told you, honesty is something I am capable of."

"Do you trust me?"

It sounded cheesy-- Bucky had watched Aladdin since he'd come back from cryo, and he knew exactly how that line sounded. But it was something that needed to be established and answered. If Clint didn't trust Bucky, Bucky wouldn't do this. He wasn't going to take the risk of doing more damage on an already very broken person. He needed the answer.

"I trust you." It came without hesitation, taking Bucky off gaurd. They barely knew each other, and yet Clint's answer was determined. "I don't think you'd hurt me. I don't think you'd let yourself."

And that-- well, Bucky wasn't so sure about that one, but Clint's unwavering trust was sometihng Bucky didn't want to shatter. So he didn't say anything, though he really, probably should have. "Okay, good."

"Can I ask you a question, Buck? And have you answer honestly?"

Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Okay?"

"Do you trust yourself?"

Bucky was silent. He'd never been asked something like that. He wanted to lie and say that he did, but truthfully, he didn't. And he knew Clint would see through the lie. "I'm learning to," he answered carefully, and all Clint did was smile.

"I'll help you learn then."

Bucky's throat closed. Clint was, he'd decided, too good, but god if it wasn't something he'd needed in his life. After a second of remembering what the hell words were, Bucky nodded slightly. "I know you will. If you're ready, go to my room and wait for me there. It's time to start."


	4. Chapter 4

Clint went ahead of Bucky to Bucky's bedroom., and Bucky took the time to attempt to steady himself. He knew what came next with this. He knew very well what was coming next, and holy hell, he was almost too eager for it. He took the time to steady himself, because if he didn't, he knew he wasn't going to have the power to withhold long enough to enjoy it. But it was hard to wait. 

Doing the math, the last time he'd done anything with anyone had been during World War II, before he'd 'died'. He'd had something brief with Natasha in the Red Room, but they'd never actually had sex, and Bucky didn't remember enough of any of it to qualify it as something. The only things he really remembered were with Steve, and they had all been so long ago, and none of it since he'd regained his memories of who he was. So it had been a long time, and he was ready to end that streak of unwilling abstinence. Except that he wasn't going to have sex with Clint. Not so soon. There were other ways to break sub and top drop.

Standing slowly, Bucky walked back to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway. Clint was standing in the middle of the room, back to Bucky and an undeniable tension in his shoulders. Bucky couldn't see his face, wished he could, wished he could know what Clint was thinking. He was probably nervous, Bucky was sure of that. Clint probably hadn't done anything /willing/ in a long time, either, not since he was last with Phil. And this, well, this was very sudden. It had taken Bucky by surprise, and probably Clint, too. So he couldn't blame the archer for being nervous.

"It's not too late to back out of this," Bucky offered softly, but god, was he hoping that Clint didn't. 

Clint turned then, smiling softly. He tilted his head a little bit to the left. "Yes it is," was his simple reply, but his smile didn't waver. "And I don't want to. Just wasn't sure how you wanted me, that's all."

Bucky hadn't thought about that. For the moment, he wasn't even entirely sure how he wanted Clint. He just knew that he did, and soon, or he was probably going to lose the very limited amount of sanity he'd manged to regain in the past few months. "Just come here," Bucky responded, motioning Clint over to him, and Clint came forward instantly. 

He hadn't thought much about it, about this part. There were things he wanted to do with Clint, but he wouldn't do a lot of them tonight. Tonight was about taking care of his archer, and while he wasn't entirely sure the best way to do that-- that would come with time-- he was sure of what he wanted to do first. And that was for his own benefit, because he'd thought about it so often in the time since he'd met Clint. 

The space between them was small, and Clint's eyes were locked on his. "Do you still trust me?" Bucky asked, lips tilting up into a half-smirk.

"Kiss me and find out."

It was a challenge, and fucking hell, it was hot. Bucky surged forward, capturing Clint's lips with his own. Clint was taller than he was, probably equally as built, but he didn't challenge the dominance of Bucky's lips. The archer's mouth was soft and complacent, pliant, parting slightly to allow Bucky entrance. 

It felt like an entirely new experience. The newness of it was nearly terrifying in its' shock. Because Bucky had kissed before, boys, girls, it didn't matter. He thought he'd never forget the feeling of it. But this, he dimly recalled, was his first kiss with his own mind, and the feeling of it was so intense, burning fire in his veins. His hand came up to wrap around the back of Clint's neck, holding him there, taking over the kiss and exploring every inch of the agent's mouth, hard and bruising. He could feel the way Clint melted into it, gave himself over to it, feel the rapid heartbeat under Clint's shirt, and it was all so much at once.

When he pulled back to breathe, he took a good look at Clint, everything from his blown pupils to the pale pink flush on his cheeks. His lips were kiss swollen, and Bucky had to fight the urge to kiss him again, because that wasn't what this was about. No, there was a point to the night, and he needed to find it, remember it. This wasn't likely to fix the sub drop Clint was in, and at the moment, it was only making Bucky worse. He needed something more, they both did.

"On your knees." The order came out short, quiet, and yet, full of power. It was the voice Tony had deemed Bucky's 'soldier' voice, the voice that was made for giving orders and expecting them to be followed. And it was. 

Clint looked good on his knees, eyes darkened to an almost sapphire color with lust, and Bucky was glad, not for the first time, that this was something that was happening. If he had it his way, if Clint wanted it, it was something that he was going to have happening again, and probably multiple times after that. The future seemed much more promising, anyway, but his focus was on this very moment, and he couldn't let himself get distracted.

"Sir?" Clint murmured, purred, and Bucky's stomach tightened. At the word or the tone, he didn't know. On instinct, his flesh fingers curled into the short, soft strands of Clint's hair.

"Get to work."

Clint did, hastening to unbutton Bucky's pants and push them down his legs, stopping at his knees. His fingers slipped under the edge of Bucky's boxers, sliding them down slowly, and Bucky hissed as his half-hard erection was exposed to the cold air of the room. 

Bucky would take it to his grave that Clint Barton was probably the biggest tease he'd ever met in his entire life. He wrapped his fingers around the flesh of Bucky's cock and gave it a few experimental tugs, testing the weight of it in his hand. Obviously satisfied, he leaned in, his tongue flicking along the head in slow, soft, feather light movements. Bucky's breath caught in his throat and his head dropped back slightly. He hadn't felt anything so good in a long time, and no, no, he wasn't going to last nearly as long as either of them needed.

The soft little laps moved down the flesh of his cock, flicking over the skin softly, tracing the veins and then around the base. Bucky's fingers tightened in Clint's hair, and he jerked back almost too-roughly. He started to apologize, but he heard the soft, almost desperate moan that came from Clint's throat in response, so experimentally, he did it again. Deep blue eyes fluttered shut and a louder moan came from kiss-swollen pink lips, and oh. Oh, Bucky could definitely be on bored with that. 

Pulling hard on Clint's hair again, Bucky jerked his head back, just enough that the angle of his neck would feel uncomfortable, but wouldn't hurt. "I didn't tell you to tease. Get to work."

Apparently, this was what Clint had been waiting for, Bucky to assert his dominance or something, because he smirked and moved back in quickly, swallowing Bucky's cock down in one swift movement. Bucky nearly choked on oxygen, his hips bucking forward on instinct, on reflex he couldn't hope to fight. He could feel the head of his dick pushing against the back of Clint's throat, feel Clint's throat working around it and fighting it, gagging. Clint didn't pull back right away, and then he pulled back to just the head, sucking hard, before diving back in. 

He was choking himself on Bucky's cock, his movements fast and sloppy, but the heat of his throat and wetness of his mouth so much more worth it than Bucky ever would have imagined. After a few seconds of this, Bucky tightened his fingers in Clint's hair and pulled him to a stop. Slowly, he rolled his hips forward, fucking into Clint's mouth. Clint groaned, the vibrations around the head of Bucky's cock making Bucky's breath hitch. He was glad Clint seemed to be enjoying it as much as he was. 

"Look at me," Bucky ordered through gritted teeth, and Clint's eyes opened automatically, locking on Bucky's as Bucky pushed past his lips repeatedly, forcing his cock down Clint's throat and reveling in the way it felt as he choked. It shouldn't have been so hot, but Bucky was gone, it was perfect, it was too much, and the lust in Clint's eyes, the daze and the fogginess-- well, that proved that Clint had no objections to it, either. He had entered subspace, which was, that was good, that was exactly what Bucky had needed to happen, what Clint had needed to happen.

"You're doing good," Bucky whispered, his voice soft, a direct contrast to the hard pushes of his hips. "So good, Clint." And though Clint couldn't respond, he practically glowed with pride, and that, that also was hotter than Bucky thought it would be. One more harsh push down Clint's throat, and Bucky was stilling, holding Clint in place as he spilled down his throat. 

Clint, to his credit, swallowed what he could, wiping the rest away with the back of his hand before falling back onto his knees and watching Bucky with a dazed expression. Bucky carded his fingers through Clint's hair softly, whispering soft praises as he caught his breath. His heart most certainly did not skip a beat when the archer nuzzled against his fingers and melted under his touch. This was-- well, he thought he'd probably been able to pull Clint from sub drop, just with that, with the focus and the simple orders and the praise, but he hadn't predicted the rest. 

Getting attached to Clint Barton was not a part of the plan. But he'd known he was going to. There was no way he was going to be able to turn his back on Clint after this, and that was a complication. 

Bucky couldn't let himself get lost in his own head, because this wasn't done, there was more to it, more that Bucky needed to do to draw Clint out of subspace and into aftercare, to make sure he didn't experience a sub drop worse than what he had. So he pulled his hand back from Clint's hair and kicked his shoes off, before he also finished kicking his jeans and boxers off. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it off to the side, aware of Clint's eyes on him, 

"Stand up, get undressed, and get on the bed. We're not finished."


	5. Chapter 5

Clint stood instantly, responsive to Bucky's orders like it was all that mattered to him, and in that moment, well... It probably was. While Bucky watched, Clint's fingers slid up the bottom of his own shirt, pulling it up and off and tossing it to the side. Bucky took a moment to just look him over. Clint was well built and Bucky'd known that already, but it was different seeing him. All toned muscles and thick arms and tanned skin all over. Bucky had seen his fair share of beautiful people throughout his life, and Clint was definitely on that list

Clint pushed his jeans and boxers off in one fluid motion, stepping out of them and kicking them off to the side with his shirt. His legs were just as toned and tan as his arms. like he did a lot of running aside from just archery. He probably did. Bucky had seen him training, and it wasn't just archery. He was a skilled fighter, trained in many different ways. It had certainly done wonders for his body.

And his cock-- well, that was something Bucky thought he would probably have to get better acquainted with in the (very near) future.

It was only once Clint was laid out on the bed with his legs spread, inviting, that Bucky was able to finally pull himself out of his head. Yes, this was good, this was something that he wanted. He would have to take all of this at some point in the future, he was going to go insane if he didn't, but it could wait, it would have to wait. Bucky was very glad that his self-control had grown past the point of paper-thin while he'd worked for HYDRA and discipline was now etched into his very core. That made this all much easier. 

Bucky climbed onto the bed and settled himself between Clint's legs, pushing them a little farther apart. His right hand traveled slowly up the soft, smooth skin of Clint's stomach, feeling the muscles there. Clint's stomach twitched under the touch, and Bucky smiled faintly. The archer was so responsive. He wondered if that was just to gentle touches. He highly doubted Clint would be so responsive to pain when he'd felt it so much throughout his life.

"Clint, I need you to look at me."

The archer's eyes fluttered open again, watching Bucky through dazed eyes. Bucky knew that, as out of it as the submissive appeared, he was completely attuned to Bucky's every touch, every word, and that was not only a good feeling, but also a very intimidating one. Bucky really didn't want to mess it up. It would be so easy to lose himself like this. But he couldn't, wouldn't let himself. 

Raising three fingers (flesh fingers, he didn't want to freak Clint out by doing this with his metal hand; that would likely be a turn off or a limit of some kind), Bucky rested them against Clint's lips. Automatically the archer's lips parted, and he sucked the fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and coating them in saliva. Bucky watched him through half-lidded eyes, making sure to keep his breathing as steady as possible. He was grateful for his limited recovery time, one of the only good things he'd found that the serum had actually done for him. His cock was already stirring against his leg again.

Bucky pulled his fingers out of Clint's mouth and moved them down, brushing them over his hole gently. "Relax," he said softly, and Clint's only response was to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Carefully, slowly, Bucky pushed the tip of his first finger past the tight ring of muscle. Clint, to his credit, didn't tense, though his brow furrowed slightly. 

"Does it hurt?" Bucky asked quietly, his finger immediately stilling. He wouldn't hurt Clint, that was the last thing he wanted to do. 

"No," Clint answered, his voice barely there, just a breath. "Just uncomfortable. You can move."

So Bucky did, pushing his finger in smoothly, slowly as so to not hurt Clint. He worked it in and out slowly, only speeding up once he felt the muscle give a little, and Clint's breathing had gone from deep and uncomfortable to a little more shallow, a little quicker. Bucky watched the archer's face, the way it went slack with pleasure, lips parted slightly, a dull pink color rising on his cheeks. Bucky could really get used to seeing that.

After a moment, he added a second finger, reminding Clint again to relax. He could see Clint about to respond, probably with something sarcastic, but he appeared to think better of it, and he kept his mouth shut. Bucky smirked softly and then started to scissor his fingers inside Clint, enjoying the way it made his breath hitch. In seconds, the muscles had relaxed again, and Clint was panting, his eyes slipping shut again, and Bucky used his metal hand to lightly slap the archer's thigh.

"Look at me," he ordered again, and Clint's cheeks flushed further as he forced his eyes back open. "You know better than to cum before I tell you to, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Clint mumbled.

"Good," Bucky whispered, twisting his wrist and switching the angle of his fingers inside Clint. He took a few seconds just to search, to probe inside Clint, smirking when Clint's fingers curled into the sheets and he released a particularly sharp moan. "That's it. Don't even think about it," he added as an afterthought, and he didn't have to explain. He was sure Clint knew- don't move, don't cum, just lay there and take it. His reward would come if he could get through that.

Bucky started moving his fingers faster then, making sure each thrust landed right against Clint's prostate. The archer's breathing got shallower, his soft noises got louder, his body tensing with the effort it was taking not to push back against Bucky's fingers or beg for more. Bucky added a third finger after a few minutes of this, but that was all he would give Clint tonight, and he was sure Clint knew it, the way his noises were becoming more frustrated, nearly pleading. 

"Talk to me," Bucky ordered quietly, pulling his fingers almost all the way out. 

"Feels good, please," Clint pleaded instantly. "Fuck, it's good, I--" The words were cut off on a high-pitched moan as Bucky slammed his fingers in on a particularly rough thrust right against his prostate, and Clint's back arched off the bed, fingers clawing at the sheets, his head tilted back. But he kept his eyes open, and Bucky was pretty impressed by that. "Oh, fuck, please."

Bucky wasn't necessarily a sadist, so he gave Clint what he was asking so kindly for, his wrist now moving much more quickly-- and again, he was grateful for the serum, because he could keep this up without his wrist starting to hurt, and the way Clint was gasping his name made him want to do this for a long time. He could get off on just that sound alone, he thought. He'd have to experiment with that some other time, maybe, if he ever had the self control to. 

"Here's what's going to happen," Bucky began in a very quiet voice, and he could see Clint trying to focus despite the pleasure that was now making his body tremble, put right there on the edge but not quite enough to get over it. "I'm going to suck your cock. You're going to count to ten, out loud, and then you can cum. If you miss a number, if I can't hear a number, if you talk too fast, you start over. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Clint's response was instantaneous, and Bucky's cock twitched in response.

Bucky leaned down, his tongue flicking lightly over the flushed head of Clint's cock, lapping at the beads of precum there, and Clint's hips twitched upwards. Using his metal arm, Bucky pushed Clint's hips back to the bed, holding them there easily as his flesh fingers continued to assault his prostate, unwavering and unforgiving. Bucky sucked the head of Clint's dick into his mouth, and, around a shaky breath, Clint choked out the number one. 

It was different than he'd thought. Clint wasn't the largest or the longest he'd ever had in his mouth, but the weight was surprisingly pleasant on his tongue, an interesting taste that left him wanting more. He sucked more of the length into his mouth, swirling his tongue along the length and pressing against the sensitive spot right under the head. Clint's voice went up sharply, but he continued to count, and Bucky smirked slightly with pride, making sure that the speed of his fingers never wavered, even as focused as he was on licking along every inch of Clint's cock.

It was when Clint hit six that Bucky took the entire length into his mouth, gagging slightly around the head and sucking hard. Clint's fingers tangled into his hair, pulling hard, and that-- that was probably a thing Bucky enjoyed just a little too much, so he wasn't going to reprimand Clint for it, didn't want to anyway, Clint had been doing so good. 

Clint finally got to ten, and it had been clear that he was just barely holding back the entire time, because his hips bucked up automatically, and he let out a high-pitched whine as he spilled down Bucky's throat, gasping and trembling through his orgasm. Bucky could feel him shaking, but he continued to press his fingers against Clint's prostate, milking every drop from him that he could and swallowing it all done. He pulled back a few seconds later and gently pulled his fingers out, wincing when Clint did. Bucky's own cock was still throbbing, and he took just a second to jerk himself off over Clint's body, groaning quietly to himself as streaks of his own cum painted Clint's skin. It was a sight that he hadn't thought would be nearly as hot as it was.

"Stay here, baby, I'm gonna go get a washcloth," Bucky murmured quietly, soothing the fingers of his metal hand through Clint's hair softly, and Clint nodded, breathing deeply as he tried to steady himself. It was only when Bucky got to the bathroom and was wetting a washcloth with warm water that he realized he'd called Clint baby. He really was in over his head with this one. "How the hell did you let this happen, Barnes?" he asked himself as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, quickly washing his hands. His reflection didn't seem to have an answer, so Bucky sighed and returned to his bedroom, kneeling on the bed beside Clint. 

"Did you just walk to the bathroom naked?" Clint asked hoarsely as Bucky gently ran the washcloth over his stomach to clean him off.

"Yes, I did."

"Very brave," Clint noted, his eyes opening again to watch Bucky's face. 

"I'm not scared of anyone seeing my naked body," Bucky laughed softly, setting the washcloth aside once he was satisfied. He laid down beside Clint then, running his fingers through the archer's hair gently. "You did good. I'm very proud of you." Clint practically glowed with pride, his head coming to rest on Bucky's shoulder. "Now get some sleep, doll, you need it."

He thought Clint was going to fight it. He'd come to expect that from the other man. But he didn't. He just closed his eyes and fell asleep on Bucky's shoulder. After a few minutes of internal struggle, Bucky sighed and closed his own eyes, allowing himself to join Clint in sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

When Bucky woke the next morning, Clint wasn't in his bed with him. It was disappointing, deep in his mind, that Clint hadn't stayed, but he tried not to let it get to him. They had agreed to one night. Maybe that one night was all Clint wanted from him. Bucky wouldn't let it get to him, he couldn't. Things like that, they just weren't supposed to matter to Bucky, so he wouldn't let it matter, even if it really sort of did.

Bucky pushed his thin blanket out of the way and lowered his feet to the floor, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The floor was cold on his bare feet, the air of the room chilled on his naked body, but Bucky was used to the cold. This didn't really bother him anymore. Usually, his room was too warm, it made him uncomfortable and felt too unfamiliar. He had wanted to ask Tony to turn the air up in his room, but he had never actually done it. He thought maybe Tony had known, anyway, because for the past few days, Bucky's room had been considerably colder than when he'd first moved in. Bucky appreciated it. It was sort of an unspoken gesture of friendship that the two didn't really have. Made things a little easier. 

While Bucky was pulling on a pair of jeans, there was a quiet knock on his door. Forcing them up and over his legs, Bucky called out, "Come in," and was buttoning them up when Steve walked in.

"Sleep okay?" Steve asked, paying no mind to the fact that Bucky was shirtless. He probably didn't really care anymore. He'd seen it often enough when they were together, and then during the war when privacy was a very limited thing.

Bucky shrugged and pushed his closet door open to find a shirt, using one hand to brush his hair back and out of his face. "Yeah. Guess I did. That's not why you're here, though." He knew Steve well enough to know when Steve was avoiding a subject.

"No, it's not," Steve agreed quietly. 

Bucky grabbed a black t-shirt from his closet and pulled it on, down over the edge of his jeans. "Is it about Clint?"

"No, it's about you," Steve sighed. He leaned in the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. Bucky raised an eyebrow, a frown taking over his features, but he didn't say anything, so Steve continued. "You like him, right? I mean-- You're attached to him."

"It was one night, Steve," Bucky muttered, exhaling a sigh through his nose. He used the excuse of looking around for a hair tie as a reason to not meet Steve's eyes. He didn't want to see whatever it was in Steve's eyes. Pity, maybe. 

"And one night like you had last night usually means something to you, Buck," Steve argued. "And the fact that you're not looking at me tells me that it did mean something to you and you think it didn't mean something to him, so you don't want to talk about it."

"Exactly," Bucky replied coolly. "I don't want to talk about it." He found a hair tie in the mess of clothes on his bedroom floor-- Clint's jeans and boxers were gone, he noticed, but his shirt was still there. Straightening again, Bucky pulled his hair back into a loose bun, a few stray strands falling into his eyes. "Why is this a conversation that you decided we needed to have?"

"Because I want to see you happy. I want to see him happy, too. He hasn't been. Neither have you. But he's not going to make the first move about it. He's going to wait for you, because that's how Clint is, because everyone else he's cared about, they haven't seen him the same way, and he's not going to ask you to claim him, he's not going to ask you to do anything. He's going to wait for you to prove that you're different than Natasha or Phil, and if you wait too long, he's going to think you're just like the rest, and I don't want to see you mess this up."

"And what if he doesn't actually want me?" Bucky shot back, finally putting a voice to the concern that was wrestling around in his head. He made himself busy picking his clothes up off the floor and tossing them into the laundry basket that was in the corner by his door. He could feel Steve's eyes on him, and it made him uncomfortable. Sure, Steve was his best friend, but even Steve seeing his insecurities made him feel tense, ready to run. He didn't like people seeing the weakness in him.

"I cant imagine why he wouldn't, Buck. You're a great Dom."

"I was," Bucky sighed quietly, turning to face Steve finally. "I was, with you. But that was in 1945, and a lot of things have changed since then. HYDRA changed me, Steve. I'm not... who I was with you. Maybe he wants better than that. He sure as hell deserves better than that."

"And maybe he disagrees with you, because we all know I do," Steve replied stubbornly. "I don't think that's your decision to make, what's best for Clint, and you shouldn't make it before you've even given him the chance to make it. I'm not letting you fuck this up before you've even had a chance with it."

"Did America's golden boy just say the word 'fuck'?" Bucky asked tonelessly, a half-smirk forming on his lips, and Steve ducked his head, cheeks turning pink.

"Shut up, Bucky. And I'm serious."

"I know you are. Do you know where he is?"

"With Tony, I think. Tony's working on something for him. Hearing aids."

Bucky nodded slightly, even though he wasn't sure he liked the thought of Clint and Tony alone. He was about 98 percent certain that Tony wasn't going to try anything with Clint, and that if he'd wanted to, he could have already, but there was that two percent that had Bucky's mind screaming with jealousy at the thought of a Dom alone with his sub. /A/ sub. Clint wasn't his. Bucky sighed and shook his head. He was so screwed. 

"You know Tony wouldn't try anything, right?" Steve asked carefully as Bucky walked out of his room, and Steve walked beside him, towards Tony's lab. Maybe he could read the jealousy that was half-written on Bucky's face. Maybe he just knew Bucky that well. "Not anymore. He might have, before, I guess. I don't really know. But Tony does know boundaries, usually, at least as far as subs."

"Clint's not mine, Steve," Bucky reminded Steve as they approached the door to the lab, and Steve stopped walking, giving Bucky a sharp look.

"No, but he might as well be."

Steve pushed the door to Tony's lab open, and both Clint and Tony looked up. Tony was at one of the benches, working on something too small for Bucky to see. Clint was sitting across the lab, his arms crossed over his chest. He was in his jeans from the night before and (Bucky totally wasn't happy to see) one of Bucky's t-shirts. Tony just looked back at his work with a half-smirk that Bucky was certain he wasn't supposed to see, raising one hand to motion Steve over. Steve went without question. Bucky, however, was watching Clint, who, in turn, was staring at Bucky blankly, like he was waiting for something. 

"Tony, I'm taking him for a moment," Bucky told the other Dom without looking away from Clint, whose eyebrow just arched up. Bucky would have given anything to know what Clint was thinking in that moment.

"Sure, RoboCop, but before you do, I'm gonna ask both Steve and Clint to leave the room for just a few minutes so you and me can have a conversation. No pressure."

Frowning in confusion, Steve looked at Tony, who motioned him out of the room without an explanation. Steve went without a word, though Bucky knew not knowing why was the most annoying thing to Steve. After a couple long seconds, Clint followed him out, brushing past Bucky without looking at him. Bucky had to resist the urge to watch him walk out. He didn't figure Clint would appreciate that. Tony waited until after the door was closed to continue speaking.

"As far as Doms go, you're not the worst he could have, I suppose. He's my friend, you know."

Bucky frowned, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He didn't know what this was about, but he felt both insulted and complimented at the same time, and it was conflicting. He kicked at the floor to Tony's lab with his toe, watching that, because it was less uncomfortable than trying to meet Tony's eyes. "I'm not his Dom. Not yet."

"Yeah, details," Tony scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "The point is, you will be. That's what you came down here to ask him, right? Not stupid, look who you're talking to. I get it, Terminator, I do. And Steve seems to think you'll be really good for it, good for Clint, which. Good for Steve, glad he trusts you. Problem is, I don't. I've seen what you can do. I've seen what you have done. And, yes, maybe part of what lies behind that pretty face of yours is the kid that Steve knew back in the 1940's, but also behind that pretty face is the ugly truth. You're not you. Not all you. Not anymore."

"I know what I am," Bucky replied, voice low and dangerous. Tony Stark's judgement was not something that he needed at any point in his life. He certainly didn't need that 'better-than-you' ignorance that always laced the billionaire's voice. It made Bucky want to punch him as hard as he could.

"Sure you do. But maybe you don't. So this is just going to be cleared up very quickly and then you can go get your boy. If you hurt him? If you do /anything/ that could even be taken as abusive towards him, I don't care about your super serum, I don't care that you're HYDRA's deadliest assassin, and I don't care that Steve won't be happy. You and I are going to go a few rounds, and I have no intention of losing." Tony's face was dead serious, and though there was the length of a lab between them, Bucky could feel electricity in the air. Something poised and ready to explode. Maybe it was just the tension that had always been between them, maybe it was this new, added threat. But Bucky knew that Tony meant this, and he was equal parts pissed of that Tony would even dare to threaten him, and sort of happy that someone else in the house had Clint's back like that.

"You know the same can be said for you and Steve," Bucky added casually, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, trust me, Barnes, I am very aware of that fact. As long as we're clear."

"We are."

"Good." Tony turned back to his work bench, waving a hand dismissively. "Go get him, cyborg. And send Steve back in on your way out."

Rolling his eyes, Bucky turned to leave the lab. He was pretty sure the headache blossoming behind his temples hadn't been there ten minutes before.


	7. Chapter 7

"What was that about?" were Clint's first words to Bucky when Bucky finally found him perched in the rafters. Bucky himself wasn't sure how to climb up into the rafters with the other man, so he just stood on the floor and stared up at Clint, responding to his question with a scoff.

"Just Stark being Stark, I guess. He has a lot to say about a lot of things that aren't really his business. You know that. You weren't there when I woke up."

Clint's eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced down at Bucky, shrugging one shoulder slightly. "I didn't know I was allowed to be."

Fire flared up in Bucky's chest. He /hated/ Doms like that, that would dismiss their subs as if they were unimportant, not allowed to stay by their Dominant's side unless ordered to be there, unless beneficial to the Dom. It didn't matter the sub's mental state. He'd always hated the rule that subs could only stay in the Dom's bed if the Dom gave explicit permission. Bucky, for one, liked the reassurance when he woke up that his sub wasn't going to leave in the middle of the night. He'd forgotten, he supposed, the people who'd been with Clint in the past. He didn't figure any of them had been the kind to let Clint stay.

"You're always allowed in my bed, Clint," Bucky replied carefully. It was the start of something important. A conversation that they needed to have to clarify what they were, what was going to happen between them. That was the first thing, the first hint of what Bucky wanted, but he had a feeling that that alone wouldn't be enough. He'd have to say what he wanted, he'd have to actually talk about it, and Bucky hadn't done that in a long time. He was sure he was going to do something to mess up.

"Only in your bed?" Clint asked. There was something in his voice that Bucky couldn't identify.

"Where do you want to be?" Bucky asked, and Clint laughed humorlessly, effortlessly swinging down from the rafters and landing easily in front of Bucky. 

"Wherever I'm allowed to be, James."

And that-- That actually sort of hurt. The casualty, the apathy of the statement. Like he didn't care what Bucky gave him. Or maybe even worse, like he expected Bucky to be the same as the others. Like he expected Bucky to only be there every once in a while, but it not to mean anything in the end. That hurt, because Bucky had thought he'd made something clear in the night before-- but maybe he hadn't. He'd known Clint was broken. He should have known he'd have to lay things out for Clint to understand what Bucky wanted from him. Because it wasn't just a few nights out of the year and then nothing else. That wasn't nearly enough.

"You're not going to be allowed to be anywhere if you don't tell me what you want," Bucky growled, one hand grabbing the front of Clint's shirt and pulling him forward until they were chest to chest.

"I've already told you what I want," Clint snapped back. He wasn't going to give in easily, and that was okay, because neither was Bucky. This was something that needed to happen. 

"You want me to claim you? Is that what you want? Is that so damn hard for you to say?" 

"Why would I say it when I know you won't?" 

Bucky shoved Clint back against the conveniently located wall, his metal hand twisted in the fabric of the shirt Clint had taken without asking, like he'd assumed something. And he was assuming a lot of things. Bucky was going to set that straight. His strength far outmatched Clint's, so even with Clint pushing at his arm and trying to get free, he was held firmly in place against the wall. 

"And what the hell makes you think you know what I am or am not going to do, Clint?" Bucky breathed, his fingers tightening in the shirt hard enough to tear. "What makes you think you know so god damn well after one night what I want? You made your choice without even sticking around to listen to mine because of what you /think/ you deserve. And that's it, isn't it? You think you don't deserve to be claimed."

"I don't!" Clint exploded, shoving at Bucky as hard as he could. And the archer was strong, but not quite that strong. All he was managing to do was tighten the grip Bucky had on him, deepen the anger that was forming in Bucky's eyes. 

"Why?" Bucky asked, his voice dangerously low.

Clint's eyes looked like shattered glass. There was a lot he was holding back, Bucky knew. Bucky was going to make it all come out. He was going to break Clint down until Clint knew how to trust him. He wasn't going to have this, this constant back and forth, this constant self-hatred. Clint didn't deserve that, no matter what he thought.

"How many subs go until they are forty-five, completely unclaimed?"

"By their own choice, like you? Plenty."

"But it hasn't been by my choice! So obviously, I'm doing something wrong."

"The only thing you're doing wrong is running away. If you think that the whole of your self-worth can be defined by the actions of Natasha Romanoff and Phil Coulson, you are very much mistaken. Because of two people, two people who had their reasons, or who didn't see you the way I do, you think you don't deserve a chance at happiness? I'm sorry, Clint, but that's bullshit, and not grounds for you to try to make my life choices for me. I know what I want, and just because you think I don't, or you think that you don't deserve it, is not enough reason for me to let that go."

"What if I'm not good enough?" Clint's voice was softer. There was no fight in it, just terrible insecurity that made Bucky's heart clench like someone had grabbed ahold of it with a vice.

"You said you trusted me," Bucky reminded the archer quietly. "Act like it."

Clint's eyes dropped, and Bucky finally released the front of the shirt, lowering his arm back to his side. "I'm sorry." His voice was something broken, subdued.

"Stop. Stop punishing yourself. That's not for you to decide anymore," Bucky sighed tiredly.

"Are you saying--" 

"Stop," Bucky repeated, and Clint nodded once, lowering his eyes back to the floor. "We'll get there, okay? But before I do anything, I need to know you actually trust me to take care of you. Because you said you did last night, and then you ran away, like your first thought was I was going to hurt you or something. Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Clint's eyes shot up, and he shook his head quickly. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I trust you, I do, I mean... Last night was perfect, okay, I haven't been that relaxed in a long time. And I woke up this morning, and I felt-- Everything felt okay. For the first time in a long time, I felt okay. And it scared me. Attachment, I mean. That scared me. Anyone will tell you that I can't even commit to a cellphone plan. So-- I left. I didn't know-- I didn't want to get attached to the feeling, or you, and then fuck up and have it hurt more."

"I'm the Winter Soldier," Bucky said bluntly, running his metal fingers down Clint's arm slowly, as if to make a point. "If anyone has the ability to completely fuck up every good thing that's ever been handed to them, it's me. You think I don't know that? But..." Bucky shrugged. He didn't know how to finish the sentence. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew what he needed to say. But he didn't talk about feelings, he didn't talk about things like this, and words were failing him.

"I didn't want last night to be the last night," Clint hedged carefully. 

"Neither did I," Bucky replied. 

"So... That means it doesn't have to be?"

"Will you let it continue, or will you run away again? Because, actually, yeah, I'm pretty serious about this. I want to claim you, but that has to go both ways. You have to let me. So... what do you say to that, Clint? To being mine."

Clint's eyes fell back to the floor like that was where they belonged, and for a terrible second, Bucky thought he was just going to walk away. He thought that maybe Clint didn't realize how many issues Bucky had, too, that Bucky actually understood more than Clint realized, the brokenness inside the archer. 

"Or are you still too attached to Natasha and Phil to commit yourself to me?" Bucky added, and maybe that was a low blow, maybe that was below the belt, because it most definitely was, but Bucky wanted the answer. And wasn't likely to let Clint get away without giving him one. Clint's eyes shot up, and he gave Bucky a sharp shove that actually succeeded in moving Bucky, because the soldier was entirely taken off guard by it. 

"I haven't been attached to Natasha in a long time. That was a phase. She's my best friend, that's all."

"And Phil Coulson?" Bucky prompted. Clint really should have known that Bucky wouldn't let it go right there. 

"Is dead," Clint answered coldly.

"That doesn't mean you aren't attached to him still. Death doesn't always nullify that, Clint."

"It doesn't matter, because I was never his. If you want me to be yours, I'm yours, I already was yours from that first order you gave, and it doesn't matter what you decide here. Phil is my past, and he's a big part of it, like Steve is a big part of yours. The difference is, Phil is gone. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that nothing that you had with Steve is effecting how you feel now, then you should trust that nothing that I had with Phil is going to effect how I feel about you."

The words were so sincere, so honest, that Bucky was a little taken aback. He had never expected such sincerity from the archer, but the other man meant every single word, and that was enough. That was beyond enough. Bucky had already made his decision, now it was just confirmed to be the right choice, the threat of Tony Stark be damned. 

"I want you to be mine," Bucky told Clint with an air of finality in his voice, and Clint smiled brightly, causing Bucky to smile right back in return.

"Then I'm yours," he replied, and Bucky grabbed him by the shirt again, this time pulling him in for a searing kiss that would ignite fire in every cell in his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got three chapters today. I'm proud of myself.
> 
> There's going to be a Steve/Tony scene next chapter, not terribly important to the plot, just to establish something with those two, but also because it's hot and I want to write it. So. Smutty Steve/Tony chapter next chapter.


End file.
